


The Strategist

by wickedg



Series: Chasing Watermelons [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: rarepair_shorts, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-07
Updated: 2012-09-07
Packaged: 2017-11-13 18:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/506548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedg/pseuds/wickedg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Percy's being backed into a corner, and it's time to fight back-not without a little help, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Strategist

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: what's his/her name

  
She made him feel so small sometimes. Almost like she blamed _him_ for not being as interested in Quidditch as her-he couldn’t help it, it just was not his Thing. While his brothers and sister would partake in the sport, he would often find himself sitting on the sidelines, nose buried in a book, eyes darting up to take in the action every so often.   
  
She would call him a muggleborn sometimes, questioning his lineage, sometimes demanding to see his wand to “check it’s real”.   
  
It was in those moments when he truly hated her, tempting himself to just give in, give up, go home.   
  
So home he went.   
  
Letting out a heavy sigh, he collapsed onto the sofa and closed his eyes. Maybe if he willed it enough, he would fall into a deep, dreamless sleep, and when he woke up all This would be forgotten.   
  
He let out an ‘oomph’ as the body that straddled his waist told him otherwise.   
  
“Per-ceeee,” she sang, leaning over him, her breath gently tickling his face. “Why so blue, Glum Glenn?”  
  
He opened his eyes to meet her sparkling expression, eyes dancing, a sly smile creeping onto her face. Without a thought he lifted himself up to her, pecking her softly on the lips before falling back to the sofa beneath him.   
  
“It’s nothing. Just work.” he quickly supplied as explanation. “How was practice?”   
  
Katie made a face.   
  
“That bad, eh?”   
  
She snorted in reply. “Moore is just being... _such_ an arse, I mean-what is this? The crap he finds to complain about sometimes...I just.” she shook her head. “I just sometimes don’t know how he manages to suck the life out...well, life.” She shrugged, adjusting herself to lay down next to him, burying her head into the crook of his neck.  
  
He let out another sigh, this time in relief, in comfort. Katie always made things better, he thought, closing his eyes again.   
  
They lay there in silence for a while, just basking in the heat from the fireplace, in the heat from each other’s bodies. Until...  
  
“It’s Frances, isn’t it?” he heard mumbled into his neck. Percy cringed, not really wanting to talk about it.   
  
“I told you, it’s just work.” he defended, slowly opening his eyes to the inevitable.  
  
“Percy.” she lifted her head and gave him a Look. Not a nice one, either, he thought sadly. “Don’t lie to me Percy Weasley.”  
  
They stared at each other for a beat, neither really wanting to get into the over-talked about subject. Her eyes bores into his, and Percy was too tired to hold out for the usual length of time.   
  
“She’s just so _mean_ , Katie!” he let out, frustration giving an edge to his words. “Why is she so mean? I don’t understand! I mean I’m trying my best here, but I have a career too, and you _know_ I’ve never been one for Quidditch, so if I get the point system wrong why can’t she just let it slide? Ugh!”  
  
Katie gave a rueful smile, and gently stroked his face.  
  
“And now I’m laying this on your feet and you’ve got that game next week and I don’t want you to have to worry about me being beat up by a bunch of...a bunch of...” Percy faltered.   
  
“A bunch of WAGs, you mean?” Katie suppled, trying to hide her amusement.   
  
Percy looked dejected.  
  
“Percy, Percy, Percy,” she sighed. “I hate to say it my darling, but you’re one of Them now.”   
  
At Percy’s disgruntled look she giggled.   
  
“And,” she continued, “even if they’re like mean ol’ Frances Houseman, you’ve really got to learn their names better.” She pursed her lips. “What did you call her this time?”  
  
Percy looked away and blushed slightly.   
  
“Francine,” he mumbled, “I called her _Francine_ the entire bloody match, and even when she was being rude she still didn’t bother to correct me-like she wanted me to insult her! I don’t want to insult them Katie, I really don’t-they’re just so bloody scary sometimes.”  
  
Katie let out another giggle, unable to contain herself. Percy plowed on, regardless.  
  
“But I do it anyway because you’re _my_ Quidditch player, and it’s your number I wear and cheer on game day, and, well...” he paused in thought for a second. Then, “well then I guess we’re going to have to come up with a game plan. You have yours for being part of the Quidditch team, so I guess I’m going to need one to become part of the...part of the WAG team.”  
  
Katie just kissed him, content to lay by his side, listening to him strategise about how to worm his way into the hearts of the other significant others on her Quidditch team.


End file.
